


The Apartment

by nztina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Character Death, Department of International Magical Cooperation, F/M, Ministry spies, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Sexual Content, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nztina/pseuds/nztina
Summary: Hermione Granger was recruited for the Ministry's international spy program right after the battle of Hogwarts. She's smart, hardened, and she has worked alone for the last four years...up until Draco Malfoy is forced to be her partner for a stakeout mission in Paris. Stuck in a tiny apartment together with nothing but each other...How bad could that be?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	The Apartment

**Author's Note:**

> I'm beginning to think that I'm a horrible person because I cannot believe I thought to write this! I got the idea last night and wrote this out within the last three or four hours. I didn't want it to be overly detailed, but rather for the reader to get glimpses into the three months that Hermione and Draco are together in the apartment while they wait for instructions from their department.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please don't be too mad about where the story goes.

Hermione Granger was the Department of International Magical Cooperation’s best asset. She had been recruited straight from her eighth year of Hogwarts and, four years later, had already proven her worth several times over as a spy for Wizarding Britain. It was all very hush-hush, of course, and her official role in the Ministry of Magic was “Werewolf Support Services Executive'', which apparently had her travelling the world to meet with international werewolves. It was a good cover. No-one but Harry Potter knew of her real missions. She went deep undercover, often aided by Polyjuice potion or glamour charms, in order to gather intelligence in foreign countries or to perform tasks not suitable for offical Ministry documents. She was incredibly smart and sharp as a blade. She knew how to do her job without having her emotions get involved. Four years on from the battle of Hogwarts, she was still a soldier, fighting for justice.

— — — — — — — — — — 

When they were first placed on assignment together, Hermione was angry. She had scheduled several meetings with, and sent many messages to, Kingsley Shacklebolt, trying to persuade him to let her have another partner. _Any_ other partner. No, he had replied. Draco Malfoy, while fresh from training, was apparently too talented for the D.I.M.C to waste behind a desk. He was ready to go into the field. “And besides,” Kingsley had added, “you’re getting too comfortable working on your own. It’s time you had a partner.”

Hermione had kicked the stone wall and gritted her teeth. She made her way down to her office and found Draco Malfoy’s case file on her desk. Sighing, she opened it and learned what he had been up to for the last few years.

— — — — — — — — — —

20th October 2002

“Malfoy, I told you to move your suitcase!” Hermione pushed it aside as she walked into the apartment, unwinding the scarf from her neck. Draco looked up from his seat at the window and tilted his head.

“How was the market?” He eyed the bag on Hermione’s shoulder with hunger. They had arrived yesterday and were forbidden, under protocol, to leave the apartment for twenty-four hours, in order to scope out any potential dangers or threats. Unfortunately, the flat they had rented in the 18th Arrondissement in Paris was just a tiny kitchen, seating area and bed in one room. The tiny living quarters, paired with the fact that it had been a day since either of them had eaten anything, made their avoidance of each other turn very quickly into bickering. Hermione had finally ventured out, after the day-long stakeout, to the market in the street to buy food. She threw an apple at Draco and he caught it with reflexes of a Seeker, and bit into it, voraciously. 

“Any movement?” She asked, pulling a pastry from the bag, keeping it between her teeth as she began to put away the rest of the groceries, wandlessly. They were not allowed to use magic here, in case the Arrondissement was being monitored for a magical footprint by the criminals they were here to locate. The only thing they could use was Polyjuice potion, and the effects of it were slowly wearing off Hermione’s features as she returned to her usual self.

“Nothing.”

Magic black market smugglers were using the neighbourhood as their hideout, according to several established tip-offs from trusted sources. It was a huge underground trade and the criminals were from London. One of the bigger fish they were trying to catch was Valentine Moore, a nasty, intelligent man who kept evading capture. The Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France had requested British agents to come into the playing field. There were several teams sent from the Ministry of Magic. Currently, Hermione and Draco were acting as sleeper agents alongside three other partner teams in the area. They were waiting for orders to become active. So, for the moment, all they had to do was keep a lookout and not kill each other. 

— — — — — — — — — — 

5th November 2002

“Hey, can I ask you something?” 

Hermione froze. She wasn’t used to Draco talking to her outside of an impassionate discussion of their work. They were sitting at their rickety dining table, eating soup and bread. He was frowning at the piece of crusty baguette in his hands and she stared at him. 

“What?”

“Why did you take this job?”

Hermione let her spoon slide back into the bowl and put her elbows up on the table, in a very un-Hermione way. She laced her fingers together and settled her chin on her hands. 

“Because I had nothing else.”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

She was unused to this Draco, the old one who was never afraid to talk back to her. The Draco who had been staying her for the past couple of weeks was quiet and kept to himself. In fact, they could go days without speaking. He narrowed his eyes. 

“You had the idiot twins at your side and the whole wizarding world at your feet, Granger. You had everything.”

“What about you, Malfoy?”

“What about me?”

“Well, as far as I can tell, you were let off leniently with no more than a slap on the wrist and some meagre reparations. You have money, a title, and a number of eligible pure-blood women throwing themselves at you. Why are you here, in a dirty room with _me_?”

Draco turned back to his soup and didn’t say anything. Hermione felt an ache in her chest. It was that familiar, yet faraway feeling of passion rising in her heart. A passionate discussion. An argument. Something. She was unused to a partner, as Kingsley had said. She was unused to living with someone. Her budding relationship with Ron had fizzled out some weeks after the war ended. As it happened, fighting for one’s life and beliefs was the real cornerstone of their romance and without Voldemort to defeat, there was nothing really there apart from friendship. 

Later that night, she lay on the floor mattress. It would have been so good to duplicate the bed using her magic but alas, they had to make do with what they found. The mattress dipped under Draco’s weight as he tucked himself into the other edge of it. Regardless of the fact that it was a small bed, both agents kept as much space as possible between them. 

She stared up at the cracked ceiling and sighed. The candle on the table was nearly burnt out and it wouldn’t be long before the room was dark. It was her least favourite part of the day. Sharing a bed with Draco Malfoy, in the darkness of night, was neither something she had ever dreamed or imagined happening. 

“I’m sorry.” It was him who spoke. She turned her head to look at his profile. 

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t—,” he hesitated, “I shouldn’t assume anything about you when I don’t even know you, really.”

“I—uh, I guess I’m sorry, too.” She raised herself up on one elbow. Draco shot her a sharp look and in the near-darkness, Hermione could almost believe that he had amusement in his eyes. 

“Why the fuck would you ever apologise to me?”

“Because I was wrong to assume anything about you, too.”

He stared at her for a beat, before ever so slightly shifting his body to face her. She slid back down to the pillow. 

“After I was released, you know,” he hesitated, and she nodded, “I kept trying to go back to my life as normal. But, every time I let my guard down, I remembered all of the horrific things they made us do.”

“Voldemort?”

He flinched, but said, “Yes. Him and the rest of them. My father. All of my friend’s parents. My aunt.”

Both he and Hermione directed their gaze to Hermione’s arm, which still bore the scar. Draco’s hand floated over it, before retracting. Hermione shifted so it was turned down towards the sheets. 

“I’m sorry that he made you go through that.”

“I’m sorry that they hurt you.”

Hermione let the silence settle upon them for a few minutes before she spoke. 

“After the war, I tried to get my parents back. I had wiped their memories for their safety but it was irreversible. Ron and Harry went into Auror training and I was alone. I was an orphan.”

“So, when they recruited you, you took it straight away?”

Hermione felt a hot tear threaten to push its way from her eye and she blinked furiously, nodding. 

“Yes. Straight away.” 

“So, we’re both a little fucked up, huh?”

She let out a short, humourless laugh. 

— — — — — — — — — — 

11th November 2002

Draco was unsure when it happened, maybe that night that they finally spoke about their lives before sleep, but something shifted between himself and Granger. They were no longer tense around each other and the weight off his shoulders was palpable. 

“Granger, you hungry yet?”

She looked up from the files on the table and nodded. He placed dinner in front of her before going to sit on the couch with his own plate. It was in the way she moved to sit next to him on the couch that he knew things were changing. They were almost…friends? He wasn’t sure. They didn’t snap at each other like they had at school. Mainly, he surmised, because he wasn’t throwing around slurs and insults at her. They were still quiet around each other, but now it was comfortable silence as opposed to something awkward. 

“This is good. When did you learn to cook?”

“All of our house-elves were taken away after the trial. Father was already in Azkaban and Mother was a mess. If I didn’t learn to cook, and fast, we would have starved.”

Hermione twirled the fettuccine around her fork and looked, absentmindedly at the television. She had to explain, when they first arrived, how the TV worked. Draco spent three hours clicking all the remote buttons to find out what they did. 

“What show is this?” 

“Oh, it’s called Rerun.”

Hermione tried not to smile but failed miserably and Draco mirrored her, revelling in the ability to smile, even it was for just a few seconds. 

“No, that means it’s being shown again.” She watched for a minute before deducing, “It’s an old show called M*A*S*H*.”

“Mash?” He frowned. “Like, potatoes?”

“No, it means Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. It’s a comedy about doctors who are stationed in Korea.”

They sat back and watched, Draco occasionally asking a question here or there. When they had finished, he stood and took her plate. She looked at him with surprise. Usually, whoever cooked wouldn’t have to do the dishes, but he saw her tired eyes and her slumped posture and knew she was too exhausted from her research to do anything. She gave him a grateful smile before settling back onto the sofa. 

— — — — — — — — — — 

14th November 2002

Hermione woke up with weight across her stomach. Blinking up into the fresh morning light, she realised that, sometime during the night, the man in the bed with her had snuggled up to her and had his arm wrapped around her waist. She tried to keep her breathing shallow so he wouldn’t stir. At the start of this assignment, she would have shoved him away and been furious but now, she was able to realise that it felt nice to have someone so close by. She had forgotten what it felt like to fall asleep next to someone. There had been a few one-night-stands when she had first started out in the business, mostly to try and quell the deep post-traumatic nightmares she had from the war. Later, she realised that sleeping with strangers would never heal the wounds in her heart and she gave that up, too. Before she could complete her pondering, Draco shifted and his face burrowed into her neck. The movement made Hermione jerk and it woke her bedfellow. His silver eyes opened slowly, and he launched himself away from her, falling onto the floor when he realised where he was and what he was doing. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!” He panted, dragging his hands through his hair. She sat up and pulled on the jumper she kept next to her. She knew her face was bright red. 

“It was cold last night. I —,” she risked looking at him, admitting, “it felt nice. Warm, that is.”

His horrified expression morphed into one of extreme shock and his mouth hung open. She used the silence to get up and go into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

— — — — — — — — — —

16th November 2002

He didn’t know how it happened, but once again, more barriers were let down since he woke up to find himself completely attached to her. That night, when they went to sleep, he felt her small hand take his arm and draw it around her waist again.

“Cold.” She said, in a way of explanation. He wasn’t about to argue, it was _cold_ , and she was a warm body. That was all it was, he told himself. She was just a warm body and not someone he was fantasising about in his dreams. Not someone he had a crush on since they were fourteen.

Slowly, he pulled himself nearer to her and allowed himself to rest on the pillow of her hair. It smelled like jasmine and vanilla and he tried not to take too deep a breath in case she realised he was just smelling her hair like a lunatic. 

“Granger?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For letting her hurt you.”

“Go to sleep, Malfoy.” 

She placed an arm over his and took her own advice. 

— — — — — — — — — — 

15th December 2002

They were on the street below their apartment building. Orders had come to check out a house on a nearby street and they were instructed to go together. Wrapped up tightly in warm clothing, Draco and Hermione walked, hand in hand down the street. To any onlooker, they were just a young couple out on a stroll. Polyjuiced, Hermione had straight, dark red hair that hung to her waist. Draco’s white-blonde coiffure was sandy brown and his eyes were green. They were Claire and Edward Tennant, they had wedding rings on their ring fingers and they were just another couple spending a year in France. 

“Which street?”

“That one.”

They turned down a narrow lane and Draco suddenly wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. She was unsure if he was doing it for their cover or for another reason, but it made her feel safe. 

“Someone’s coming.” She muttered, almost inaudibly. Two men and a woman were walking towards them, deep in conversation. Before she could think of a plan of action, Draco had pushed her up against the brick wall of a building and buried his face in her neck. From the outside, with their caps on, it looked like he was kissing her. He shoved his thigh between both of hers and she tried not to let out a whimper. She didn’t even know where the whimper came from. It wasn’t like she was attracted to him. Not at all. 

Out of her periphery, she saw the group walking nearer and then shut her eyes when they were close. She tilted her mouth and kissed the skin under Draco’s ear, forcing a gasp from him. For a few seconds, they stayed like that until the group passed around the corner and they were free again. Draco backed himself away from her and she was surprised to find her fingertips burning to pull him nearer. She bit her lip and nodded. 

“Did you see that? I’m sure it was Valentine Moore.”

“No, I was busy.” His cheeks were pink, and she didn’t think it was because of the cold. 

“Oh, right. Well,” she took his offered elbow and they made their way down the street once more, “I think it was him. The smuggler. Those must be his accomplices.”

“Never mind that for now. Let’s just get to the house and see what it’s like. We have to be back at the apartment in twenty minutes.”

— — — — — — — — — —

17th December 2002

Draco was sleeping. It was still early in the night, barely 9pm, but he had a headache and Hermione could not use magic to help him. She had persuaded him to go to sleep after getting him headache tablets from the pharmacy down the street. 

She sat at the window seat and looked out at the moonlit buildings. It was so cold, and her fingers were numb. The little fireplace they had was barely enough to keep the chill out of the air but she knew that once she was in their bed, it would be okay. He would be warm enough. 

She wondered when their relationship turned from one of pure hatred and hostility to one where she could only sleep with his arms around her. It was funny and she smiled at the thought of Ron or Harry finding out that she was here, in Paris, on a potentially dangerous mission, sharing an apartment with Draco Malfoy. He was kinder here. More open. He would pull a blanket over her when she was snoozing on the sofa, and he made her tea just the way she liked it. His eyes were softer and his hands were gentle when he held her in the night. 

It wasn’t possible to have feelings for him, was it? She was a cold, hard, efficient spy for Wizarding Britain. She wasn’t sweet, kind, caring Hermione Granger anymore. She was Agent Granger. She was ruthless. She did what she needed to. She didn’t have any time for feelings. Feelings that she had pushed down since she was sixteen. 

“Please —,”

She looked over to see Draco tossing on the bed. His arm was stretched out and his face was screwed up in pain. He was bathed in moonlight and he looked like he was being tortured. She was kneeling at his side within seconds, pulling his arm down and placing a hand over his forehead.

“Malfoy.” 

“Please, no!”

“Malfoy!”

“Not her! Please, not her!”

“Draco, wake up!” She was whisper-shouting now. They weren’t supposed to be loud. It would draw attention from their neighbours. She shook his shoulders and suddenly, his eyes flew open. He stared at her, panting. She stroked his cheek with her knuckles and relaxed down onto the floor, her elbows on the mattress. He sat up and put his face in his hands. 

“Sorry. Nightmare.” His voice was barely above a whisper and he choked on his words. 

“That’s okay.” She tried to ignore the burning feeling rising up in her body.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m going to go crazy. It feels so real.” He was still quiet and she had to strain to hear him.

“I know.” The burning was getting hotter. Her stomach, her chest. 

“I wish I had something. I wish I could forget.”

“You can’t, Draco,” he looked up at her use of his first name, “but you have to heal for the nightmares to go away.” The burning was in her throat and her wrists.

“How do I do that?” His voice was saturated in disbelief. She placed her hand on his arm and gently rubbed circles with her thumb. 

“Find something to pour your energy into. Find a release.”

“Release?” His eyes were more focused now, more awake.

“Release.” The burning was in her fingertips. 

He let out a laugh. 

“What do you propose I do? Take drugs? What do I even use?”

The burning engulfed her, and, in a moment of Gryffindor courage and bravery, she said,

“Use me.”

She pushed herself up to reach his mouth with her own and he automatically wrapped his arms around her body, cradling her and returning her kisses with as much passion as she was giving him. In the quiet, dark room, it was just them, tearing off clothing and mumbling nonsense into each other's skin. He was above her, his hair falling into her eyes, placing open-mouthed kisses onto her neck, her chest, her stomach, and lower. Her arms drifted across his scars and she pulled his face to meet hers. 

“Is this okay? Are you okay?” His words were coming out in little gasps as he fought to control himself. She couldn’t speak apart from nodding and kissing his mouth again. He pressed down into her and her cry was muffled by his kiss. They moved together with so much desperation and hunger that tears were running down her face. It had been so long since she was touched. He was so gentle and focused, and his eyes were closed with the effort of it. She pulled him closer so their chests touched and as she fell over the edge, she bit down onto his shoulder so she wouldn’t scream and wake up the whole building. He followed her a few seconds later, softly crying out into her neck. His weight pressed against her and she found that it was not unwelcome. Stroking her hands across his back, they lay there for a long time, before they unwrapped their hold of each other and he shifted so she was lying across his chest. 

“Well, that certainly complicates things.” She muttered, staring up at him. He smiled and brushed her hair away from her face.

“At least my headache is gone.”

— — — — — — — — — — 

24th December 2002

They were naked, again. Every night since their first, they had spent a lot of time in each other's arms. It was work during the day, the occasional trip out to do some more recon, dinner on the sofa and then being together in their bed for hours until they both drifted off to sleep at some point during the early morning. The day after the first night, she had gone to the pharmacy and thrown a packet at him. 

“Condoms. Muggles use them.”

They couldn’t use their magic for protection spells and she didn’t want to take any chances. Now, they were lying in the dark, his face resting against her sternum as they got their breathing back to normal. Hermione sighed. 

“What is it?”

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it.”

Draco lifted himself up and looked at her with a frown on his face. 

“What, sex?”

“Yes, sex!” Hermione shoved him, playfully. “We’re spies on a mission and we’re sleeping together. It’s so ridiculous. Kingsley purposefully put you with me because he knew we’d never get together. No sexual tension.”

Draco snorted, softly. 

“I beg to differ. We’ve had sexual tension since you slapped me in third-year.”

Hermione tried not to laugh but she gave in when he started tickling her. She kicked his leg in retaliation. 

“We’re going to be in so much trouble if they find out what we’re doing.”

“Why? We do our work. This is nighttime. It’s off the clock.”

“Yes, but sleeping together,” she drew her hands through his hair and bit her lip, “is dangerous. Feelings get involved and—,”

“What feelings?” Draco cut her off, staring at her with his sharp silver eyes. She tried to look away and failed. 

“Just, you know.”

“Feelings.”

“Yeah. Just feelings.”

“Uh, huh. Your feelings for me.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

— — — — — — — — — — 

12th January 2003

Draco looked at the girl sleeping on his chest. She was so different to the hardened, emotionless facade she put up only weeks before. This was the Hermione he remembered. Kind, caring, always smiling. He held one of her curls in his hand and threaded his fingers through it, careful not to tug too hard and wake her. Suddenly, she shifted. 

“Do you remember,” she muttered, “those nights in sixth-year when we used to talk?”

“Yes.” He had wondered if she would ever bring it up. 

“I was so desperate to save you, Draco.” Her hand went to reach for his and he held it steadily.

“I was beyond saving.”

“No one is beyond saving. Especially you.”

“I was so rude to you. All you did was listen to me talk about my troubles and I was still so cruel.”

“You were under so much pressure from him. I didn’t blame you.”

“I wish you had. I wish you still hated me. That way, I could be okay with this. Maybe.”

“With what?”

“Being here with you. We’re risking our lives and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She chuckled, softly, raising herself to straddle his waist. 

“I don’t get hurt, Draco Malfoy.” 

She bent down and kissed him.

— — — — — — — — — — 

19th January

Draco stepped into the apartment, shivering. Snow was dusted on his clothes and cap and Hermione stood to help him with the groceries. 

“What’s this?” She asked, pulling the little box of chocolates from the bag. He smiled at her. 

“It’s our three month stakeout anniversary.”

She thought back and grinned. 

“Three months and we survived each other.”

“Three months and we finally _shagged_ each other.”

“Don’t be crass.”

There was a knock at the door and they both spun around, wands aloft. Draco glanced at Hermione before stepping forward. He cautiously unlocked the door and poked his head around it before sighing and pulling it open fully. Hermione looked to see a little girl with green and white striped socks standing in the passage. They knew it was a Polyjuice disguise. It was Agent Doug Cairns. The socks were the ringer. 

“Come in, Agent Cairns.”

“Can’t, here’s your mail!” Cairns tossed an envelope at them and skipped off down the corridor. Draco shut the door and looked at Hermione, bemused.

“That was disturbing.”

“Tell me about it.” She reached down to pick up the envelope. 

“What does it say?” Draco peered around her shoulder.

“It’s the date for the attack on the warehouse.”

“Already?”

“No. We have two weeks.”

“Anything else?”

Hermione nodded. “We’re done with recon. We just have to wait, now.”

Draco pulled the letter from Hermione’s hands and gave her a sly grin, pushing her back towards their bed.

“Well, in that case…”

— — — — — — — — — —

1:30pm 

1st February 2003 

Draco was glad to find that the two weeks had gone exactly as he’d hoped. They were naked most days, not bothering to move from their bed apart from eating and using the washroom. Currently, they were sitting, tangled in their sheets, eating ramen. Hermione had found packets of it at a small store she visited and insisted on Draco trying it. He enjoyed it so much that they were on their second servings.

“Why is it like this when we’re here?” Hermione mused, lying on her side and critically eyeing a noodle hanging off her fork. Draco looked up at her, thoughtfully. He knew what she meant. Why, she was asking, were they getting along so well here? Why was he being so nice to her? Why was she being so good to him? Why did they fit together so well?

“Because we’re not there.” There, meaning Britain, there meaning Hogwarts, there meaning Wizarding London, where everyone knew their names and everyone loved her and hated him. 

“So it’s the change of location that makes you so bearable?”

“I could say the same for you, Granger.”

“I sometimes wish we didn’t have to leave here.”

Draco nodded. 

“Me too. I think I like this little place of ours more than I ever did the Manor.”

“Could you leave it all behind? Your role as Lord Malfoy? Your family?”

He scoffed. “I couldn’t care less about the title, Granger. My father can rot for all I care, and my mother is staying with her sister, Andromeda. She’s fine.”

“Don’t you want a family of your own, someday?”

The question caught him off-guard and he didn’t know what to say.

“I —, uh, I mean, I don’t —,”

“Calm down, Draco. I’m not proposing to you. Just curious.” Hermione grinned at him but her smile did not reach her eyes. If he noticed or not, he kept silent.

“I guess, one day. I’d like to be happy. A wife, a kid or two.”

Hermione placed her empty bowl beside the bed and snuggled into the sheets. 

“I want a family. I want a family and a cottage with a herb garden and a library for me to read. Two kids and a big piece of land for them to run around.”

Draco looked at her and the ache in his chest made him very aware that he wanted that too. With her.

“I hope you get what you want, Hermione.”

She looked up and frowned. He never used her name. Not even during sex. He seemed to realise, too, and instead of looking embarrassed, he leaned down to kiss her before discarding his bowl to the floor and pulling her on top of him.

— — — — — — — — — —

11:24pm

1st February 2003

Draco watched her dozing off, and brushed the sweat off her forehead. It was their last night in the apartment before whatever awaited them tomorrow. They would meet up with the other undercover sleeper agents and finally reprimand the kingpin of the smugglers. It would end, and they could go back to England and he would ask her out on a proper date. She would probably laugh but he wanted to take her out. He wanted to buy her flowers and kiss her in public, and not be Claire and Edward Tennant, but Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. He didn’t know why, but he was already falling in love with her. Shifting so he could look at her sleeping face, his own expression clouded with doubt. What if she wasn’t like this when they got back? What if she told him she wasn’t interested, that this was just something they did to pass time? 

As if she was reading his thoughts, her eyes opened and she tilted her chin up to kiss his jaw.

“I care about you, Draco. Please don’t,” she hesitated, before continuing, “forget us when we go back home.”

He wanted to laugh, because the chances of him forgetting her, with her perfect smile and beautiful heart and talented brain, was impossible. He kissed her chastely on the mouth and pulled back to stare into her eyes for the last time before they fell asleep. 

“I care about you too, Hermione.”

It was all he could say before her lids lowered and her breathing evened out. He tucked himself next to her and slept off within a few minutes. 

— — — — — — — — — — 

12:57pm

2nd February 2003

“Kurtz? Anderson?” Draco nodded at the two agents who had met them next to the church. They all shook hands, the two gentlemen looking as pleased as they were to finally be able to talk to people who were in the same boat. It was a quiet day, still very cold. No-one was about apart from the occasional person visiting the grocery store.

“How did you find the stay?” Agent Anderson asked them. Hermione glanced up at Draco, willing him not to smile.

“We found it hard at first,” Draco shot her a look, “but then we managed to find some common ground.”

Kurtz nodded and twisted to check their surroundings. 

“Okay, we’re two minutes away from attack. Agent Kim and Agent Lloyd have them in sight and we can move in at the agreed time.”

The two other agents turned to face the road, talking softly as they calculated timings. Draco turned to Hermione and pulled her close for just a brief minute, kissing her quickly before letting her go again. He nodded to her. _Be safe,_ he tried to tell her with his expression. _Be safe, don’t do anything too brave and get yourself hurt. I want to fall asleep tonight with you in my arms._

She seemed to understand because her face was open and full of emotion. She looked like she was about to say something when,

“Alright, it’s time.”

— — — — — — — — — — 

2nd February 2003

1:14pm

Hermione gasped as stunning spells flew at her. She ducked, shielding herself, and covered her eyes as the wooden crates behind her blew up. She threw a disarming spell towards the man attacking her and his wand flew from his hand. Stunning him, she used her wand to drag him to the wall. It felt good to use her wand again and she relished the feeling of magic surging through her fingers. Three months of no magic, and she was still at the top of her game. 

“Expelliarmus!” Draco’s voice floated across to her from where he was running, at the other end of the warehouse. Two of Valentine’s henchmen were chasing him and she shot one hex after the other at them, bringing them down. Draco looked up to see her and smiled. 

— — — — — — — — — — 

2nd February 2003

1:19pm

They were being ambushed. Within a minute, at least forty wizards and witches had poured into the building, shouting curses and Unforgivables at the agents. Hermione ducked and rolled to avoid an _Avada_ that nearly caught her, before immobilising the witch who sent it to her. She felt helpless. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Someone must have tipped them off. This was going to end badly. She reached around to grab the fallen witch’s wand and snapped it in two.

— — — — — — — — — —

2nd February 2003

1:23pm

Draco threw a hex at a particularly nasty wizard, who deflected it. He sent a curse back and Draco shielded himself just in the nick of time. He saw Hermione’s curly head bobbing up and down behind a crate as she sent spell after spell at the nasty wizards and witches coming at her. He knew he had to get to her. He had to make sure she was safe. She needed to know he loved her.

— — — — — — — — — —

2nd February 2003

1:24pm

Hermione was tired. She wasn’t used to this much magic surging through her veins after months of nothing. She swiped the hair out of her face and sent a stinging jinx at an oncoming wizard. 

“Granger!”

Draco was suddenly beside her. She had barely any time to throw him a grateful glance when more hexes and curses flew at them.

— — — — — — — — — —

2nd February 2003

1:27pm

Draco knew she was tired because he was, too. His body was struggling with the magic but he had to keep fighting.

“Draco, if we don’t get out of this—,” Hermione was saying, as she sent silent spells out to catch the people they faced, “if we don’t, then I want you to know that—,”

“No! No, Granger, don’t say anything!” He was shouting back to her. “Tell me after we finish this. When we’re home. Tell me when we get home!”

— — — — — — — — — —

2nd February 2003

1:27pm

Hermione had to tell him how she felt. She had to tell him she loved him.

— — — — — — — — — — 

2nd February 2003

1:31pm 

Slowly but surely, the agents were overpowering the smugglers and their bodyguards. Hermione could tell that they were going to win. She could feel it in her fingertips. A particularly large curse came hurling towards her and she was thrown back, Draco stepping in front of her to block it. She wanted to be angry, to tell him she could handle it, but she was grateful. 

Something wasn’t right, all of a sudden. Someone was grabbing her from behind. Someone was breathing in her ear. There was a pain in her stomach. In her back. All through her body. 

— — — — — — — — — —

2nd February 2003

1:32pm 

Draco disarmed the last smuggler and surveyed the scene with satisfaction. They had won. Other agents were starting to round up the unconscious and immobile bodies of the criminals, and he spun to face Hermione. To hug her and kiss her and tell her that they were victorious. 

“Draco?” She was standing there, a hand splayed across her stomach. Her eyes met his for a second before she dropped to her knees. He fell with her, trying to cradle her in his arms.

“Granger! Granger, what is it? What hurts?”

“Pain.” She looked up at him, confusion on her face. “Pain, here.”

He pulled her hand away to see a deep wound in her abdomen. Thick, dark blood was seeping out of it and his mind went blank. He raised his head, screaming, 

“Somebody help me! Someone! She’s hurt! Granger! Agent Granger!”

There were footsteps, and he heard people rushing to him. To her. 

_“Oh, Merlin. It’s deep.”_

_“It’s a cursed wound.”_

_“It was Valentine. He had a cursed knife.”_

_“Did he escape?”_

_“Yeah. Bastard slipped out the back while his people were fighting for him.”_

_“Medis will be here in a few minutes. St. Mungo’s is sending them as soon as they get a portkey.”_

_“Shit, will she hold out until then?”_

_“She’s not looking good.”_

Draco was holding her in his arms, begging her to stay awake. She didn’t look away from his face.

“Draco?”

“Granger! Yes! What is it?”

“Draco, leave the program.”

He frowned. What was she talking about?

“No, Granger, don’t worry, just stay with me for now.”

He could see that his fellow agents were trying to cast spells on her. He would have tried too, but he was terrible with healing spells and he knew that the others were doing better than he could. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead.

“Listen to me,” she was having difficulty breathing but she raised her palm to cup his jaw, “I want you to leave the job and live a good life. Don’t be an agent,” she stopped to cough and Draco was horrified to see a tiny trail of blood leak from the side of her mouth, “because it’ll kill you over time, Draco. Please. Promise me you’ll leave. Tell Harry and Ron that it didn’t hurt. Tell them I love them. Tell my parents. Tell my parents. Please leave, Draco. Please leave.”

“Hermione, we’ll leave together. We can go and live in that cottage, remember that cottage?” He didn’t know when, but tears had started to leak down his face and drip onto her chest. He brushed them away with the back of his hand. 

“Meet someone good, Draco. Someone good and not scarred from war. Fall in love and have—,” she trembled, wincing in pain, “have children with her. Have babies with her, okay?”

“Hermione, stop it. I want to be with you. We’ll have babies together.”

She shook her head with all the effort she had left in her body. “No. Not with me. Too late for me.” There was blood on her teeth and her eyes were swirling with more and more confusion. Suddenly, there was a movement next to them and Draco looked up briefly to see a Mediwitch crouching beside them. She was muttering spells under her breath and Draco looked back to Hermione. He kissed her on the cheeks, and then her eyes, and finally on her mouth. 

“Not too late, Hermione. Not too late. We’ll have our cottage, with our babies, and a herb garden, and your library.”

“Draco, promise me you’ll leave.”

“Hermione, you have to fight.”

“Draco, too late. Too late. Tell them I love them. Tell them. Draco, I love y—,” Her eyes went unfocused and her hand dropped from his cheek. Tears were burning his eyes. Her eyes were closing.

“Hermione? Granger! Granger? Please, wake up! I love you! I love you, Hermione!” He shouted, pawing at her face and begging her to awaken with kisses to her mouth. The Mediwitch stopped chanting her spells. 

“Son.” She said. Draco looked at her with venom in his eyes.

“Why _the fuck_ aren’t you healing her? Why aren’t you doing anything? Help her! Help her, damn it! Help her!” His screams dissolved into sobs, and he buried his face in her neck as he had done that first time on the pavement so many weeks ago. This time, he couldn’t feel her heartbeat. 

— — — — — — — — — — 

2nd February 2003

2:05pm

“Healer Torrance?” Kingsley Shacklebolt came to stand beside her as she finished working on Hermione’s body. She had cleaned her up, wiping away any trace of blood from her body, sewing her shirt and jumper back up so it looked like she was just sleeping. 

“Hello, Minister. What a waste, isn’t it? Poor girl.” 

Kingsley looked down at Hermione with grim sadness, placing a gentle hand over the girl’s.

“Where is he?”

“He’s over there, where she fell. I just managed to persuade him to let me clean her up. He’s inconsolable, Minister.” She sighed, sadly. “They were in love.”

— — — — — — — — — — 

2nd February 2003

2:15pm

“Agent Malfoy?”

He looked up from the bloodstain on the concrete floor, desolate. 

“What?” His voice was gravelly from screaming. The Mediwitch indicated to Hermione, who was lying on a makeshift table of wooden crates pulled together.

“We’re going to take her to St. Mungo’s now. Would you like to come?”

He nodded. He didn’t want to be away from her.

“I’m so sorry that we couldn’t save them.” The Mediwitch placed a hand on his shoulder as he stood up. He frowned.

“Them?”

“Yes?” 

“What do you mean, them?”

“Agent Malfoy, Agent Granger was pregnant. You didn’t know?”

He crumpled to the ground again.

— — — — — — — — — —

3rd February 2003

12:03am 

Draco sat beside her bed in the hospital. The ward was empty and she looked peaceful. He pushed the hem of her jumper up to see if he could detect any sign of her baby. _Their_ baby. She was so skinny as it was, he hadn’t noticed any major change in her body. The place between her hip bones was smooth and nearly flat. _Nearly_. Reaching down, he placed a kiss to her stomach, where their little one lay. He pulled her jumper back down, smoothing it and making sure she looked perfect. His perfect Hermione. Their perfect baby.

There was a knock at the door and Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the room. He looked tired and Draco just nodded to him in acknowledgment. 

“Hello, Draco.”

“What?”

“Draco, I’m very sorry.”

“She wasn’t supposed to die.”

“I know.”

“We were going to live in a cottage. She was going to have our baby.” His voice was barely audible. Kingsley sighed. 

“Yes, son. I know. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Do you know what the baby was going to be?”

Kingsley shook his head and Draco gave him a pained grimace.

“That Mediwitch told me. She said it was going to be a girl. Our daughter. I didn’t know.”

“I know. I don’t know if she knew, either, Draco.”

“No, she knew. I was so foolish. She knew but I didn’t consider it. She was asking me about family. About having a family.”

“Son, your mother is here to get you.”

“I don’t care. I’m staying with Hermione.”

— — — — — — — — — —

6th February 2002

10:30am

Draco stood beside Ron and Harry. They had put aside their differences to bury Hermione. Somehow, they weren’t surprised when he told them that he had fallen for her. He had apologised to them, for not keeping her safe. They had both laughed at him for thinking that she would let someone keep her safe. The ceremony was over. She was in the ground. She and their baby. He was going to go back to his flat and drink until he couldn’t think anymore. 

“Draco? Can I have a minute, please?” Kingsley Shacklebolt was suddenly there, looking at him with expectant eyes. Ron turned to his sister to cry into her arms and Harry put a reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. 

“Go on, mate. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Draco walked away from the burial spot to a tree. Kingsley turned and looked at him. 

“I know this is soon, but I want you to be aware that Valentine Moore was located in Belgium. We want to know if you’re interested in getting him.”

“You mean, putting the sick son of a bitch into the dirt?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking—,”

“She told me to get out.”

“What?”

“Hermione,” his voice broke on her name, “told me to leave. To stop being a spy.”

“Is that what you want?”

Draco swallowed, looking back to where his love was lying. He thought of her beautiful face, and the light fading from her eyes. He thought of her begging him to leave, and the pain that Valentine had caused her. He turned back to the Minister, his eyes hard, his jaw set.

“I’m going to kill him.”

**Author's Note:**

> I told you. I am a horrible, horrible person.


End file.
